He'd better do anything than
go to the woods.
"But if he can help himself like a man, oh, it's a glorious place. The
ways of the forest are easy to learn, its nature is simple, and the
cooking plain, while the fare is abundant. Fish for the catching, deer
for the shooting, cool springs for the drinking, wood for the cutting,
appetite for eating, and sleep that waits no wooing. It comes with the
first star, and tarries till it fades into morning. For the time you
are monarch of all you survey. No claimant forbids you; no bailiff
haunts you; no thieves molest you; no fops annoy you. If the tempest
rages without, you are secure in your lowly tent. Though it humbles in
its fury the lofty pine, and uproots the stubborn oak, it passes
harmlessly over you, and you feel for once you are a free and
independent man. You realize a term which is a fiction in our
constitution. Nor pride nor envy, hatred nor malice, rivalry nor
strife is there. You are at peace with all the world, and the world is
at peace with you. You own not its authority. You can worship God
after your own fashion, and dread not the name of bigot, idolater,
heretic, or schismatic. The forest is his temple--he is ever present,
and the still small voice of your short and simple prayer seems more
audible amid the silence that reigns around you. You feel that you are
in the presence of your Creator, before whom you humble yourself, and
not of man, before whom you clothe yourself with pride.
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